A deep silence ensued. Only the slow ticking of the big old-
fashioned clock in Madame Patoux's kitchen, which was next door to
the room they were all in, could be distinctly heard. Henri and
Babette were the first to stir. They got up from their knees,
brushed the dust of the floor from their clothes, and stared
curiously at Fabien. Was a miracle going to happen? Fabien, however-
-still resting against the Cardinal's breast, with his meagre little
hands clasped tight on the Cardinal's crucifix, kept his eyes
solemnly shut and gave no sign, till the Cardinal himself gently
moved him and set him down. Then he glanced around him
bewilderingly, tottered, and would have fallen had he not been given
his little crutch for support. Very pathetic was the smile which
then quivered on his pale lips,--very doleful was the shake of his
head as he prepared to hobble away.

"Thank you very much, Monseigneur," he murmured gently--"I felt
almost cured while you were praying,--but I am afraid it is no use!
You see there are so many miserable people in the world,--many
cripples, too,--I am not the only one. Our Lord must have enough to
do if He is asked to heal them all! But I am sure you have done
everything you can for me, and I am grateful to you, Monseigneur.
Good-bye!"

"Good-bye, my child!" and the Cardinal, strongly moved by the sight
of the little helpless twisted figure, and painfully impressed too
by the sense of his own entire powerlessness to remove the cause of
the trouble, bent down and kissed him--"Believe me, if the giving of
my own life could make you strong, you should have that life
willingly. May God bless and heal you!"